Inside the Special Children’s Center’s Beautiful All-New Vicki & Joseph Safra Brooklyn Center
Eleven years after opening its doors in Brooklyn, the Special Children’s Center embarks on a powerful new chapter, expanding its services in a breathtaking new facility designed to serve children and families on an even greater level.

There are moments in the life of a community that feel transformative, when walls rise not just to house programs, but to hold dreams. The new Brooklyn home of the Special Children’s Center is one of those moments.
Founded by visionary leaders Chaya Bender and Jenine Shwekey, the Special Children’s Center has always stood for one powerful promise: no family navigating special needs should ever walk alone. Now, with the opening of a breathtaking new building in Brooklyn, that promise is expanding in space, in services, and in heart.
From the moment you step inside, it is clear this is no ordinary facility. Sunlight pours into thoughtfully designed classrooms. Wide hallways feel warm and welcoming. Every detail reflects dignity, safety, and care.
There is a magnificent art room where children can build skills and confidence. A stunning music room where melodies become a language of expression, because music so often reaches where words cannot. A professional recording studio where voices can be heard and celebrated. A fully equipped baking studio, designed with child-height counters so small hands can measure, mix, and create with independence and pride.
A spacious dining room will host wholesome, family-style meals prepared in the Special Children’s Center’s brand-new kitchens. There are classrooms for preschoolers and elementary students, spaces for services, and areas for adults in the program. A shower room and spa room offer both comfort and practical relief, easing the daily load for parents and allowing children to return home refreshed and relaxed.
Parents often wonder: Will my child be cared for with dignity? Will they feel proud to be here? Inside these walls, the answer is yes.
The Special Children’s Center has always been known for showing up when families need it most. Whenever school is closed, the Special Children’s Center is open. Legal holidays. Jewish holidays. Any day public school or yeshiva closes its doors, the Special Children’s Center opens wide.
The respite programs are filled with laughter, warmth, and genuine joy. Designed to care for the children during a family’s busiest hours, these programs restore balance. Parents often share: “My child wakes up excited to go.” And perhaps even more telling: “For the first time, I can breathe.”
While the Brooklyn Special Children’s Center already offers a robust range of services, such as after-school programming, Sunday programs including a special teen boys’ program, holiday programming, preschool and elementary classes, adult services, and support for children across a full range of diagnoses, this new building represents something greater. It represents growth. It represents capacity. It represents deeper opportunity.
As Jenine Shwekey often shares, the Center’s mission is simple but profound: to truly be there for families on every level. Chaya Bender emphasizes that special needs care is not a part-time commitment. “Families don’t get days off,” she says. “So neither do we.” That philosophy is woven into the very structure of the new Brooklyn building.
What makes this expansion so meaningful is not just the size of the space, but the spirit inside it. The Special Children’s Center does not see diagnoses first. It sees children: with personalities, humor, talents, and tremendous potential.
In the music room, a shy child may find her voice. In the gym, a hesitant teen may discover strength. In the baking studio, a young boy may beam with pride over perfectly frosted cupcakes. And in every room, families find reassurance: We are not alone.
This beautiful new building was thoughtfully designed as a work of love by Margalit Lankry Design as a gift to our children and their families. It is a testament to what becomes possible when a community comes together with extraordinary compassion and shared responsibility toward families navigating special needs. Heartfelt gratitude goes to Harry Adjmi, Alex Adjmi, Richie Dweck, Elliot Tawil, Izzy Nahum and Jack Scaba, who worked tirelessly to help ensure this vision became a reality. With deep appreciation, we thank Jack Chehebar and Marilyn Chehebar for dedicating our brand-new building, and the Safra family for dedicating our Brooklyn Center. There are no words adequate to express the enormous impact of your incredible generosity. Because of you, our children will grow, thrive, and shine in a space built just for them.
As the doors prepare to open, the excitement is palpable. Staff members are eager. Families are counting down the days. This Brooklyn building is more than an expansion of services. It is an expansion of possibility. It stands as a promise to every parent navigating the complex journey of raising a child with special needs: We are here. We are open. We are ready. We will walk beside you, on holidays, on ordinary Tuesdays, on challenging days, and on days of celebration. Because every child deserves a beautiful experience. Every parent deserves support. And no family should ever have to do this alone.
Reach out to get involved! 2990 Ave U 718-382-0099 dinag@thecenterny.org.
Special Ride is coming up soon! Join the magic! specialride@thecenternj.org

Linda Argalgi Sadacka
The growing coordination bet­ween Jerusalem and Wa­shing­ton reflects a strategic reality that transcends any single diplomatic encounter. The subject is Iran.

Israel faces the Iranian regime as a direct security threat. Tehran arms and finances proxies on Israel’s borders and openly declares its intent to erase the Jewish state. Missiles are not symbolic. They are operational. The United States confronts the same regime from a broader vantage point. American forces remain positioned across the region. U.S. naval power secures critical maritime corridors. American deterrence shapes the behavior of adversaries well beyond the Middle East. If Iran alters the regional balance of power, the consequences will extend to both democracies.
The character of the regime is not speculative. It is visible. The world remembers Mahsa Amini, whose death in custody ignited nationwide protests. Teenagers like Nika Shakarami became symbols of a generation punished for demanding dignity. And now there is Diana Bahador. Nineteen years old. Known as “Baby Rider.” A young woman whose refusal to disappear behind imposed restrictions became an act of quiet resistance. She was shot by security forces during protests. These are not excesses of chaos. They are instruments of governance.
A regime that governs through repression at home does not transform into a reliable actor abroad. Internal strain does not soften ideological hostility. It can intensify it. When legitimacy erodes domestically, projecting strength externally becomes a tool of consolidation. This dynamic matters. Iran’s leadership defines itself in opposition to both Israel and the United States. Its hostility is structural. The rhetoric directed at Jerusalem and Washington is not incidental. It is foundational to the regime’s identity.
If Iran were to secure nuclear capability, the implications would not be confined to Israel’s security calculus. It would reshape deterrence across the region, embolden aligned militias, and test American credibility on a global scale. Alignment between Jerusalem and Washington is therefore not diplomatic theater. It is strategic necessity.
Israel cannot permit an existential threat to mature unchecked. Its doctrine does not allow it. If action becomes unavoidable, the repercussions will not remain localized. The United States would confront the strategic consequences whether by design or by default. The question is not whether the two nations are connected in this challenge. They already are. The question is whether that connection is acknowledged clearly enough to shape policy with precision rather than reaction. Iran views Israel and America as linked adversaries. Clarity requires that they respond as linked allies. A regime reveals itself first in how it treats its own citizens. The evidence is already before us.

Recognizing that everything, even experiencing the pain of a terrifying illness, is from the Almighty
Emuna Braverman

During the month of Adar, the Talmud tells us, we increase our joy. This sense of celebration culminates with the holiday of Purim, with costumes, Megillah reading, drinking, eating and the exchanging of gifts of food. Who doesn’t smile at the young girls dressed as Queens Esther or Vashti or the little boys acting as Mordecai or Haman? A little liquor, a little feasting – what could be more joyful?
Except that’s not really the source of the happiness. It’s not based on frivolity and laughter. It’s not based on sumptuous food and a good Scotch. It’s joy founded on a deep insight about the world, on important understanding of the Almighty’s role in our lives, of His constant providence.
When we drink on Purim there is only one goal (and it’s not what you think it is), to drink just enough to remove the barriers we’ve erected in our minds and psyches that block us from seeing the Almighty’s presence in the world. This is particularly true in situations that appear negative, desperate, painful or hopeless. Those are the moments when we are the most blocked, when we retreat behind our blockades. Those are the times we most need to peel back the layers and recognize that everything is from the Almighty and it is all in His hands.
The true lesson of Purim is that everything, the seemingly good and the seemingly bad, are one; they both stem from our perfect Creator. It is this realization that brings us joy. It is the recognition that everything is exactly as it should be, that there are no other forces at work, that allows us to accept our challenges with true joy.
All the commentators point out that the Almighty’s name is not mentioned once in the Purim story. At this bleak moment in the Jewish people’s history, He is behind the scenes, pulling the strings, turning sorrow into joy, revealing the meaning of our individual and collective travails.
This year, as I confront the medical challenges facing a loved one, I haven’t felt in the mood to celebrate Purim. Seeing and experiencing the pain of a terrifying illness, I haven’t been able to access that joy. I feel inclined to cancel all but the most obligatory of Purim activities.
But I know that’s a mistake. I know it actually misses the whole point of the day. This situation, too, is from the Almighty. This struggle too, is part of His plan. Although the curtains remain closed and we can’t peer behind them to discover the ultimate meaning, it is a fundamental tenet of our belief that the Almighty is in control, that there are no other powers.
We need to invest our experience of Purim with exceptional fervor on the years when it is hardest. It is the teaching of Purim, it is the relationship with the Almighty, it is the deeply internalized understanding that this too is good that will sustain all of us during our struggles. And that’s something to celebrate.

RABBI LORD JONATHAN SACKS ZT”L
THIS MONTH WE’LL BE CELEBRATING THE JEWISH FESTIVAL OF PURIM. IT’S A JOYOUS DAY. WE HAVE A FESTIVE MEAL; WE SEND PRESENTS TO OUR FRIENDS; AND GIFTS TO THE POOR, SO THAT NO ONE SHOULD FEEL EXCLUDED. ANYONE JOINING US ON PURIM WOULD THINK IT COMMEMORATES ONE OF THE GREAT MOMENTS IN JEWISH HISTORY, LIKE THE EXODUS FROM SLAVERY OR THE REVELATION AT MOUNT SINAI.

Actually though, the truth is quite different. Purim is the day we remember the story told in the book of Esther, set in Persia. It tells of how a senior member of the Persian court, Haman, got angry that one man, Mordechai, refused to bow down to him. Discovering that Mordechai was a Jew, he decided to take revenge on all Jews and persuaded the King to issue a decree that all Jews — young and old, men, women and children — should be annihilated on a single day. Only the fact that Esther, Mordechai’s cousin, was the King’s favorite allowed her to intercede on behalf of her people and defeat the plan.
Purim is, in other words, the festival of survival in the face of attempted genocide. It wasn’t until way into adult life that I realized that what we celebrate on Purim is simply the fact that we’re alive; that our ancestors weren’t murdered after all.
Like many of my generation born after the Holocaust, I thought antisemitism was dead; that a hate so irrational, so murderous, had finally been laid to rest. So it has come as a shock to realize in recent months that it’s still strong in many parts of the world, and that even in Britain yesterday a cleric appeared in court charged with distributing a tape calling on his followers to kill Jews. (This article was written 22 years ago, and since then antisemitism has just gotten worse.)
What is it about Jews — or black people, or Roma, or foreigners — that causes them to be hated? The oldest explanation is probably the simplest: because we don’t like the unlike. As Haman put it, “Their customs are different from those of other people.” And that’s why racial or religious hate isn’t just dangerous. It’s a betrayal of the human condition. We are different. Every individual, every culture, every ethnicity, every faith, gives something unique to humanity. Religious and racial diversity are as essential to our world as biodiversity. And therefore, I pray that we have the courage to fight prejudice, of which antisemitism is simply the oldest of them all. Because a world that can’t live with difference is a world that lacks room for humanity itself.

A Spiritual and Historical Perspective

A Bar Mitzvah is more than just a milestone; it is a defining moment in a young boy’s life, marking his transition from childhood into Jewish adulthood. While today’s celebrations often focus on grand parties and elaborate festivities, the true essence of a Bar Mitzvah lies in the spiritual transformation that takes place. Rooted in centuries of tradition, this sacred rite of passage connects a young man to generations of Jewish history, responsibility, and commitment to mitzvot.

The origins of the Bar Mitzvah date back to ancient times, though the concept has evolved over the centuries. The Torah does not explicitly mention the age of thirteen as the defining moment of adulthood, but the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) states, “At thirteen for mitzvot,” signifying that at this age, a boy becomes obligated in the commandments. Before this time, his parents bear the responsibility for his actions, but once he turns thirteen, he is accountable for observing mitzvot on his own. This transition is not merely symbolic; it represents a fundamental shift in a boy’s spiritual standing. He is now counted in a minyan, can be called to the Torah, and is expected to take his place as a full-fledged member of the Jewish community.
Throughout Jewish history, the ways in which a Bar Mitzvah was marked varied across different communities. In some Sephardic traditions, a young boy would take on the responsibility of fasting on Yom Kippur for the first time, while in Ashkenazi communities, the primary focus was on the boy receiving his first aliyah to the Torah. In medieval France, Rabbi Shlomo ben Aderet (the Rashba) described the custom of a father reciting the blessing Baruch she’patrani (“Blessed is He who has freed me from the responsibility for this child”) upon his son’s Bar Mitzvah, acknowledging the shift in religious obligation. While the formal celebrations may have varied, the essence remained the same—the moment when a boy publicly assumed his role as a responsible Jew, bound by Torah and mitzvot.
Over time, the celebration of a Bar Mitzvah expanded. In Eastern European shtetls, families would host a modest meal after the young man’s first aliyah, often with Torah learning and words of Torah from the boy himself. In the Sephardic world, grand feasts with communal participation were common, emphasizing the collective joy in welcoming another young man into the covenant of Torah and mitzvot. However, it was not until the modern era, particularly in the 20th century, that Bar Mitzvah celebrations took on a more extravagant nature. Today, it is not uncommon to see lavish parties, live entertainment, and elaborate themes, sometimes overshadowing the spiritual weight of the occasion.
While there is certainly nothing wrong with celebrating this joyous moment, it is important to remember the deeper significance of the Bar Mitzvah. It is not about the size of the event or the grandeur of the party, but about a young man stepping into his spiritual heritage with purpose and commitment. The heart of the Bar Mitzvah is found in his first mitzvah observances as an adult—donning tefillin, leading prayers, or delivering a Devar Torah. These actions reinforce the idea that becoming a Bar Mitzvah is not a culmination but a beginning, the start of a lifelong journey of Torah learning and mitzvah observance.
For many, the experience of preparing for a Bar Mitzvah becomes a transformative period of growth. Learning to lay tefillin each morning instills discipline and a connection to Hashem. Studying a Torah portion, whether through traditional chanting or an in-depth explanation, builds confidence and pride in one’s heritage. Engaging in a mitzvah project, such as helping those in need or dedicating time to a meaningful cause, teaches responsibility beyond oneself. These experiences shape not only the Bar Mitzvah boy but also his family and community, who rally around him to support his journey into Jewish adulthood.
Even as times change and customs adapt, the core of the Bar Mitzvah remains unchanged. It is a reaffirmation of our commitment to Torah, a celebration of continuity, and a moment of profound spiritual elevation. When a thirteen-year-old boy stands before the congregation, wrapped in his tefillin, reading from the Torah with conviction, he carries with him the hopes and prayers of generations past. His voice joins the echoes of history, uniting him with the countless young men who came before him and those who will follow in his footsteps. It is this unbroken chain of Jewish faith and responsibility that defines the Bar Mitzvah—not just the moment, but the mission it represents for a lifetime.

How to Stop Letting Food, Mirrors, and Other People’s Opinions Ruin Your Joy

Laura Shammah, MS, RDN

In our community, a wedding is not a once-in-a-while event. It’s a season. Sometimes it’s three nights in a row. Sometimes it’s every week for months. And while weddings are meant to be beautiful, joyful, and uplifting, for many women, and men, they quietly become a source of dread. Not because of the dancing or the simcha. But because of the mirror, the dress, the buffet, and the fear of being judged.

Before a wedding, many people are not thinking, “I’m excited to celebrate this couple.” Instead, they are wondering if the dress will still fit, whether they should eat less that day so they don’t look bloated, if all these weddings will lead to weight gain, what it will feel like to run into people they haven’t seen in years, whether they look older, heavier, or less put-together, or if they will end up standing alone with no one to talk to.
So they skip lunch. They drink coffee instead of eating. They stand in front of the mirror pulling at their dress. They arrive already anxious, and then expect themselves to relax.
That’s not a celebration. That’s survival mode.

Why Weddings Trigger So Much Anxiety
Weddings hit three vulnerable places at once. Your body, because you are wearing something fitted and surrounded by mirrors, photos, and other women in dresses, which makes comparison hard to avoid. Your relationship with food, because buffet-style eating can feel exposing. Everyone can see what you take, how much you eat, and whether you go back for more. For someone with food anxiety, that can feel overwhelming. And your social worth, with questions running quietly in the background. Will anyone talk to me? Will I be sitting alone? Do I look awkward? Do I belong here?
All of that gets wrapped into one night, again and again.

The Biggest Mistake, Not Eating All Day
One of the most common wedding habits I see is skipping food during the day to fit into a dress or “save calories” for the wedding. That almost always backfires.
When you don’t eat, blood sugar drops and anxiety rises. You feel shaky, irritable, and out of control, and you are far more likely to overeat later, not from weakness, but from your body trying to survive. That “out of control” feeling at the buffet is not a character flaw. It is a nervous system that never got fed.

A Calmer Way to Do Wedding Nights
You don’t need perfect eating to enjoy a wedding. You need a regulated body, and that starts before you leave the house.
Eat a real meal earlier in the day. Include protein, carbohydrates, and something grounding. Not just coffee and not just a snack. When your body feels fed, your brain feels safer.
At the buffet, don’t try to perform or scan the room. Make a plate you will enjoy, sit down, and eat it. No one is monitoring your plate the way you think they are.

What People Are Really Thinking
Most people are not studying you. They are worrying about themselves. They are wondering if they look okay, why they feel awkward, whether they know enough people there, and what they should say next. You are not under a spotlight. You are just another human in a room full of humans trying to get through the night.

If You’re Single and It Hurts
In our community, weddings can be especially painful when you’re single, not because someone will or won’t ask you to dance, but because of the quiet moments. Will anyone talk to me? Will I feel invisible? Will people wonder why I’m still single?
It’s easy to turn a wedding into a story about what’s wrong with you. That story is not true.
Your worth is not defined by who speaks to you, who notices you, or what your relationship status is. You are not behind and you are not broken. You are a whole person walking into a room that is loud, crowded, and emotionally charged.

Let Weddings Be What They Are Meant to Be
A wedding is not an audition. It is not a body check. It is not a performance. It is two people celebrating love and inviting you to be part of it.
You are allowed to eat. You are allowed to be seen. You are allowed to take up space.
In my work, I see so many women who are accomplished, thoughtful, and deeply capable, yet feel small when they walk into a wedding hall. We don’t work on perfect eating or perfect bodies. We work on helping their nervous systems feel safe around food, around mirrors, and around other people again.
Because when you stop fighting your body and your plate, something beautiful happens. You actually get to be present for your life.
And weddings, at their best, are not about how you look or what you eat. They’re about being there, fully, for someone else’s joy. And you deserve that too.

Why relationships get harder before they get deeper

Devora Levy

A long-term relationship isn’t a straight line. It’s a series of messy, uncomfortable evolutions. Here are the common emotional stages that tend to show up in serious relationships, from long-term dating to marriage.

Understanding these stages matters because without a framework, you can misread growth as failure. What feels like distance can actually be development. What feels like loss can be the shedding of illusion. Jewish tradition views love as something you build over time, and building things involves dust, friction, and a lot of heavy lifting.

Stage One: Easy Closeness
This one is easy. You’re both on your best behavior, you’re finishing each other’s sentences, and everything feels like a movie. But be honest, you don’t actually know each other yet. You’re in love with a “trailer” for the person, not the whole film. It’s a beautiful stage, but it’s thin and incomplete. There’s generosity and optimism here, but you haven’t yet seen how the other person shows up under pressure.

Stage Two: The Arrival of Difference
Differences eventually surface. Suddenly, you’re noticing the real stuff. It’s not just the big issues, but the friction of daily life, how you handle money, how long they pout after an argument, or the way they never quite shut the cabinet doors. Conversations that once felt simple now feel loaded.
This is often the moment couples begin to worry. Why does this feel harder than it used to?
This is where Judaism introduces a surprisingly honest idea about relationships. In the book of Genesis (2:18), when the first human relationship is created, the Torah describes the partner as ezer k’negdo, meaning a helper opposite him, or even a helper against him.
At first glance, that sounds strange. How is opposition helpful? But Judaism’s insight is profound. A true partner isn’t meant to be your twin or your echo. They help you because they are different. They stand across from you, see what you can’t see, and challenge the parts of you that would otherwise remain undeveloped.
In this light, difference is not a design flaw. It’s the design itself. The tension that shows up in daily life isn’t a sign that something went wrong. It’s often the very mechanism through which growth happens. Your partner becomes your counterweight, balancing your blind spots and stretching you beyond your comfort zone.
That friction is not a mistake. It’s the point.

Stage Three: Protection and Power
When those differences stop feeling interesting and start feeling personal, the ego steps in. This is the stage when you begin to protect yourself. The disagreement itself starts to matter less than what it stirs up underneath. You start watching your words more carefully, or throwing them more sharply. You keep score.
Instead of asking, “What’s happening between us?” the question quietly becomes, “How do I make sure I don’t lose here?” The focus shifts from solving to protecting your position.
Being right, or creating a bit of distance, can start to feel safer than being open.
This stage is fueled by fear. Fear that if you soften, you’ll be overlooked. Fear that if you give in, you’ll disappear. Fear that your needs won’t matter unless you fight for them.
Many couples misinterpret this stage as a sign that love is fading. But that’s a mistake. It often shows up precisely because the relationship now matters enough to feel threatening. The attachment is real, and so is the risk.
Now comes the time to muster the courage to become vulnerable and forge a greater closeness through genuine respect and communication.

Stage Four: Letting Go of the Fantasy
This is the part no one tells you about. At some point, a quieter realization sets in. Your partner will not become the imagined version you hoped for. They won’t read your mind. They won’t respond exactly the way you would. They won’t fill every gap or soften every hard edge in your life. And neither will you.
To reach a deeper place, you have to let the “imaginary” version of your partner die, the version who was supposed to make everything feel easier.
Letting go of that fantasy can feel like grief. There’s a sense of loss in realizing that love doesn’t rescue you from being human.
But there’s also relief. You stop negotiating with a version of the relationship that never actually existed. You stop waiting for someone to turn into who you hoped they’d be. You finally meet the person in front of you, and allow yourself to be seen as you are, too.

Stage Five: Chosen Love
By this stage, something has settled. Love is being carried by a clearer understanding of who you’re with. You now see your partner with more accuracy, their limits, their habits, the ways they struggle, and you see your own more clearly as well. The relationship becomes less about filling gaps and more about learning how to move through life together. Expectations are more realistic.
Chosen love grows out of a clear-eyed decision to care for the relationship, even when effort is required. You speak more thoughtfully because you understand the cost of careless words. You repair sooner because distance no longer feels dramatic or necessary. You stop keeping score because you’re invested in what you’re building over time.
Kindness here takes intention. Forgiveness becomes part of how the relationship functions, shaped through repetition and repair. Trust deepens through experience, through seeing what the relationship can hold.
This is the kind of love that can absorb real life, illness, fatigue, boredom, pressure, and change. It doesn’t depend on constant emotional intensity to feel alive. It holds steady through ordinary days that ask for patience rather than passion.
From the outside, it may not look impressive. From the inside, it feels stable enough to build a life on.

Devora Levy grew up in South Africa and made Aliya 24 years ago. She is a life coach and educator who works with women, teens, and couples—both virtually and in person. She also gives workshops on relationships, resilience, and personal growth. Trained through the Refuah Institute in Jerusalem, recognized by the American Association of Coaches, and certified in Reality Therapy, Devora lives in Israel with her husband and seven children.

LENDING ITEMS TO THOSE IN NEED

THE WORD GEMACH IS AN ACRONYM FOR THE JEWISH TERM GEMILUT CHASIDIM (ACTS OF LOVING KINDNESS). THE MODERN IDEA OF A GEMACH IS SAID TO HAVE ORIGINATED IN ISRAEL, WHERE PEOPLE WOULD NEED THINGS LIKE MEDICINE OR EVEN A PACIFIER FOR THEIR BABY ON THE SABBATH BUT COULD NOT PURCHASE ONE BECAUSE OF SABBATH LAW. THE IDEA QUICKLY SPREAD TO OTHER TEMPORARY NEEDS. OUR COMMUNITY HAS WONDERFUL GEMACHS THAT HAVE ITEMS LIKE BABY PRODUCTS, MEDICAL SUPPLIES, WEDDING DRESSES, COATS AND MORE.

Kylie Ora Lobell

The phrase has entered the pop culture lexicon, but what does “mazel tov” really mean?

You’ve heard the phrase at a bar or bat mitzvah. You yelled it when the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” came on at a friend’s wedding. “Mazel tov!” is widely used throughout the Jewish world and the phrase has entered the pop culture lexicon as well. But what does “mazel tov” really mean? Where does it come from? And when should it be used?

The Meaning of “Mazel Tov”
In Hebrew, mazel tov means “good luck” but it is used as a way to say “congratulations!” Some people – usually Ashkenazi Jews – will say MA-zel tov, while Israeli or Sephardic Jews will say ma-ZAL tov, emphasizing the last few letters when pronouncing it.
The Hebrew word mazel means “a drip from above” or “an alignment of stars,” referring to the fact that everyone is born under an astrological field. In fact, the Zodiac signs in Hebrew are called “mazalot.”
Our mazel, our luck, is determined when we are born. However, when G-D changes Abram’s name to Abraham, He shows the first patriarch of monotheism the night sky and says, “See if you can count the stars.” G-D uplifted him above the stars, out of the sway of the astrological signs, and changed his identity. This was because Abraham lifted himself out of the system of false idolatry and chose to believe in G-D, the singular source of existence. G-D thereby lifted the Jewish People, the progeny of Abraham, out of the natural system, putting them above “mazel.” By following the commandments, doing good in this world, and praying, you have the power to transcend your “mazel.”
When we tell someone “mazel tov,” we are acknowledging that the stars have aligned for them and something wonderful is happening in their life.

When We Say “Mazel Tov”
We say “mazel tov” when we are celebrating a special occasion, like:
• A wedding
• A birth
• A brit
• An engagement
• A bar or bat mitzvah
• A graduation
You may have heard the song “Siman Tov u-Mazal Tov” play at Jewish celebrations. Or you might have seen it in pop culture, like when Adam Sandler sang it in “The Wedding Singer” or when they sang it in “Legally Blonde: the Musical.” Bravo TV host Andy Cohen is a huge fan of the word “mazel,” using it on his show “Watch What Happens Live.”
“Mazel tov” is written in Hebrew like this: מזל טוב .” When responding to wishes of “mazel tov,” you could say “thank you” or “toda rabah,” which is “thank you very much” in Hebrew.
You may hear someone say a person has good or bad “mazel.” In this context, it does mean luck. If you want to wish someone good luck on a future endeavor, you could say, “b’hatzlachah,” which means it should be with success.
Jews do not typically say “mazel tov” when finding out a woman is pregnant. Instead, say, “b’sha’ah tovah”, “it should be at a good time”, as a way to avoid the ayin hara, the evil eye. “Mazel tov” is said when the baby is actually born. Interestingly, many Jewish women will not hold a baby shower because of the ayin hara, and instead will choose to celebrate once the baby is born.

Feeling the Mazel in Our Own Lives
You feel happy and fulfilled when you celebrate a milestone or a special occasion. If you’re married, how did you feel on your wedding day? How was it to become a bar or bat mitzvah? Wasn’t it amazing to have a child or graduate from school or get a great new job?
Jewish mysticism teaches that only a ray of our soul is in our body. The main part of our soul, our mazel, is shining down on us from above. When we have a special occasion, our soul from above shines extra bright, making us feel more fulfilled and connected to G-D. We are able to see the deeper meaning of our life and what our purpose truly is.
By wishing someone “mazel tov,” we are instilling them with a blessing and hoping that they receive only more and more blessings for the rest of their life.

Kylie Ora Lobell is a Los Angeles-based writer as well as president of KOL Digital Marketing, where she does publicity and marketing and helps clients share their unique stories with the world.

This month’s Community Photo Album focuses on celebrations centered on family, love, and tradition. From joyful engagement parties and wedding celebrations to bar mitzvah gatherings and bris ceremonies, these moments reflect the milestones that bring families together. The photos highlight brides and grooms, intimate family moments, and the shared joy that fills each gathering. Whether captured during a quiet bris ceremony or a lively celebration, each image reflects the heart of community life, where meaningful moments are honored and shared.

Photo credit: Never Go EmptyHEADED by Sarah Rinette Azizo

A party feels special when the food looks inviting and tastes like it was planned with care. Guests walk in, spot the platters, and suddenly the room feels warmer. Beautiful appetizers do more than feed people. They create conversation, help guests relax, and set the tone for the rest of the evening. When each bite has good flavor and a clean presentation, the table becomes part of the celebration.

Once you think of appetizers as the stars of the event, choosing and preparing them becomes enjoyable. You can balance rich and light dishes, sweet and savory flavors, and a mix of textures. The recipes below are simple to prepare, easy to serve, and perfect for passing or setting out on trays. They look polished, but they are practical enough for real life.

MINI PULLED BBQ BRISKET SLIDERS
Serves: about 10–12 people
20–24 sliders
Ingredients
• 2 to 3 pounds slow-cooked brisket, shredded
• 1 to 1½ cups BBQ sauce, kosher
• 20–24 small slider buns or mini challah rolls, pareve
• 1 cup pickled onions, sliced thin

How to Prepare

1. Place shredded brisket in a pan and stir in BBQ sauce.
2. Warm gently over low heat until hot and coated.
3. Lay out slider buns on a tray.
4. Spoon brisket onto each bun.
5. Top with a few pickled onions.
6. Serve warm.
   These sliders feel hearty and festive, yet they are easy to hold and enjoy while mingling.

CHICKEN SATAY SKEWERS WITH TAHINI “SATAY” SAUCE
Serves: 6–8 people
Ingredients
• 1½ pounds chicken breast, cut into strips
• 3 tbsp olive oil
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 tblsps soy sauce or coconut aminos, kosher

Tahini Sauce
• ½ cup tahini
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 1 to 2 tbsp honey
• Pinch of salt
• Water, as needed

How to Prepare

1. Mix olive oil, garlic, and soy. Add chicken and marinate at least 30 minutes in the fridge.
2. Thread chicken onto small skewers.
3. Grill or bake at 400°F until cooked through and lightly browned.
4. For the sauce, whisk tahini, lemon, honey, and salt.
5. Add water slowly until smooth and pourable.
6. Serve skewers with sauce on the side or lightly drizzled.
   This dish brings bright flavor, simple presentation, and a lighter option to the table.

MINI MEATBALLS WITH POMEGRANATE GLAZE
Serves: 8–10 people
Ingredients
• 1-pound ground beef
• 1 egg
• ½ cup pareve breadcrumbs
• ½ small onion, finely minced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 2 tbsp chopped parsley
• Salt and pepper

Glaze
• 1½ cups pomegranate juice
• ¼ cup brown sugar
• 1 tbsp vinegar

How to Prepare

1. Heat oven to 375°F.
2. Mix beef, egg, breadcrumbs, onion, garlic, parsley, salt, and pepper.
3. Roll into small meatballs.
4. Bake 15 to 20 minutes until cooked through.
5. In a saucepan, simmer pomegranate juice, sugar, and vinegar until thick and glossy.
6. Add meatballs to the pot and coat with glaze.
7. Serve warm with toothpicks.
   They add color to the platter and a sweet-savory taste that feels special.

SHAWARMA CHICKEN CUPS
Serves: 10–12 people
Ingredients
• 2 pounds chicken thighs, cut small
• 2 to 3 tbsp shawarma seasoning
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• Mini lettuce cups or small pareve tortilla-style shells
• 1 cup finely chopped Israeli pickles
• Techina for drizzling

How to Prepare

1. Toss chicken with olive oil and shawarma seasoning.
2. Cook in a skillet until browned and fully cooked.
3. Spoon chicken into lettuce cups or shells.
4. Top with pickles.
5. Drizzle lightly with techina.
6. Serve warm or room temperature.
   These bites feel authentic, colorful, and easy to eat.

Put these recipes together on one buffet and you get balance, variety, and flavor without stress. Each dish can be prepared ahead in stages, then heated or assembled before serving. With thoughtful portions and simple garnishes, your guests will feel cared for from the very first bite.

How Mothers and Grandmothers Thoughtfully Coordinate a Modern Brit Milah

A brit milah is one of the most meaningful moments in a family’s life, and for many households, the planning is guided by mothers and grandmothers. They are the ones selecting the pillow, assembling the ceremony set, choosing the baby’s gown and kippah, and coordinating what will be worn by those entrusted with carrying the baby. In recent years, these decisions have become more deliberate. Families are thinking carefully about how each element works together, creating a setting that feels dignified, calm, and beautifully prepared.

The process often begins with the brit milah pillow. While white remains timeless, many families are drawn to softer neutral tones that add warmth and depth. Ivory, cream, champagne, and pale stone are especially popular choices. These shades feel refined without drawing attention to themselves and work seamlessly in both synagogue and home settings. Beyond color, quality matters. A well-made pillow should feel substantial and balanced, offering secure support while maintaining a clean, elegant appearance. Fine stitching, thoughtful proportions, and restrained Hebrew embroidery signal craftsmanship that will stand the test of time.
Once the pillow is chosen, the rest of the ceremony pieces naturally follow. Mothers and grandmothers often coordinate the chair of Eliyahu HaNavi cover and wine cover to complement the pillow rather than mirror it exactly. Consistency in tone creates a cohesive look, while subtle variations in texture keep the overall effect layered and interesting. When the ceremony is held at home, many families also consider how these items will sit within the space, choosing pieces that feel aligned with the surrounding decor.
The baby’s gown is another detail receiving careful attention. Traditionally white or ivory, gowns today are chosen for their fabric, drape, and balance. Soft cottons and lightweight blends that move gently and feel comfortable are favored, especially since the baby may be held by several people throughout the ceremony. Length and weight matter. A gown that falls cleanly without excess fabric feels polished and well proportioned. Many families look for a gown that quietly echoes the tones and textures of the pillow and ceremony set.
The baby’s kippah, once an afterthought, is now part of the overall vision. Families are selecting soft fabric kippot designed to stay in place and feel proportionate to the baby. Neutral shades, subtle embroidery, or a refined metallic accent add just enough detail to feel special without overpowering the look.
Deciding between ready-made and custom pieces is often a turning point. Ready-made brit milah sets offer ease and confidence. They provide a coordinated foundation and eliminate much of the guesswork, making them an appealing choice for families who value simplicity and reliability. These sets are also practical for reuse and can be shared among family members, allowing items to be passed from sibling to sibling or kept within the extended family for future britot.
Custom pieces offer a more hands-on option and are often chosen for their personal significance. Many mothers and grandmothers work with local needlepoint or embroidery shops to design a custom brit milah pillow or chair cover. Others take on the project themselves, creating something by hand that reflects care and intention. This approach allows for creativity while still keeping the design restrained and appropriate for repeated use. When done thoughtfully, these pieces carry a quiet uniqueness that comes from knowing a family member invested time and effort into making them.
Even with custom work, restraint remains important. Families often avoid overly specific colors or details so the items can be used again and shared across generations. In many homes, brit milah pieces become heirlooms, brought out for each new baby and associated with years of family memories. Choosing durable fabrics and timeless designs helps ensure these items age gracefully.
Head coverings remain an essential part of the overall look. Mothers often select a scarf or shawl ahead of time, choosing something that feels comfortable, secure, and refined, and that can later be worn for Shabbat or other simchas. Grandmothers, particularly those bringing the baby in and out, are increasingly included in the coordination. Related head coverings acknowledge their roles and create visual balance, adding to the sense that every detail has been considered.
A layered approach helps keep planning manageable. Starting with the pillow and ceremony set provides a foundation. Adding the baby’s gown and kippah builds the look. Finishing with head coverings for the mother and grandmothers completes the picture. This method keeps decisions focused and ensures each piece has purpose.
Long after the day itself, families often proudly display images from the brit milah in their homes, alongside other meaningful milestones. Choosing pieces with care and restraint allows them to serve not just one celebration, but many families and many years to come.